


Between the Sheets

by SammysGirl666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mooseley, Non-Explicit Sex, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammysGirl666/pseuds/SammysGirl666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam thinks about leaving. Crowley reminds him why he stays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> I was sad so I wrote a thing. I'm still sad but the thing is being published.

The questions don’t really bother Sam, not really. It’s not like he has to explain himself to anyone. He’s well past that point of his life. It’s just, he wishes people would understand or, at least, have the decency to respect his choices. It isn’t their business what he does with himself and if he wants to subject himself to what, they’re all calling, a “verbally abusive” relationship, then he should be able to do so without everyone heckling him about it. He’s 38 years old and can take care of himself, and if he really wanted someone else, he would find someone else.

“You know I’m leaving you if you get fat, right?” Crowley says as he walks into their bedroom, just getting home from work. Sam is sitting on the bed eating, having just ordered a large pizza because he really doesn’t want to cook tonight.

“I bought it for us to share,” says Sam shortly. He doesn’t mean it to be so harsh but he’s had a bad day and he doesn’t need Crowley piling on.

“I’m a demon, I don’t need to eat,” Crowley huffs, sitting down on the bed next to Sam.

“You’re only half a demon now and if you continue to neglect your human half, it won’t matter how much demon you have in you, you’ll be dead.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t _going_ to eat, Moose, I was merely point out that I don’t need to.”

“Yeah,” Sam snorts, “but you kind of do. So eat.”

  
Crowley grunts in something like disapproval and picks a slice, the smallest one, just to get under Sam’s skin. The annoying part is that it works and Sam glares at him while taking a bite of his own, significantly larger, slice of pizza. Crowley smirks, in an attempt to bait him but Sam turns away and flicks the TV on, firmly ignoring his boyfriend. The show on TV is some random sitcom that is about as funny as such a show can be. Sam doesn’t care, though, intent on giving Crowley the cold shoulder.

He reaches down to grab a third slice of pizza, one more than he typically eats but before he can, the box is being moved away from him. Crowley has it, putting it on the ground next to their bed and fixing Sam with a look. It isn’t a hard look, just a Crowley look; one that says, “you and I are going to talk and I will insult you as many times as I want as we do so.” Sam doesn’t budge and Crowley rolls his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Crowley asks, rhetorically. Sam knows Crowley’s being polite. Realistically, Sam doesn’t have a choice. Crowley will drag it out of him one way or another. He holds firmly to his silence, though. He really doesn’t want to talk about it and he doesn’t think he’s wrong for that.

He doesn’t want to talk about how he went down to see Dean today, a forty-five minute drive from their house, just to get there and have his brother try and push some other guy on him. He doesn’t want to talk about how he got another lecture about how bad his relationship choices are. He doesn’t want to relive the moment that Castiel, of all people, stepped in and tried to explain to him why it was such a bad idea for him to continue on with Crowley.

“You know, this brooding silence thing may have had its charm in the past, but it’s simply pathetic now,” Crowley drawls, smirking at Sam in that infuriating way he always does. Something snaps in Sam and he stands up from the bed, rounding on Crowley so he can fix him with an angry glare.

“You know, I _try_ , Crowley,” Sam growls, “I try so hard to defend you. Dean and Cas and Jody, they all think I should dump you. They keep telling my that you don’t deserve me and I try, fuck do I try, to tell them that they’re wrong. But you make it so goddamn hard for me! Would it kill you to, just once, do something nice? If, for no other reason, than to prove them wrong? I am tired of having this fight with my family, Crowley. I’m--”

  
  
“Woah, woah, woah, Moose,” Crowley interrupts, following Sam’s lead and standing up from the bed. “Where is all this coming from? Did you go and see your brother today?”

“Yeah,” Sam snaps back, “yeah I did. But so what? I’m starting to think they’re right about you...about us. All we ever do is bicker unless you’re trying to warm me up for sex. I’ve been able to think of reasons to stay thus far but, I gotta say, I’m running low. More and more, these days, I wonder what I’m doing; why I’m still here...still with you.”

Sam can tell that the last hits hard. Crowley winces and glares at Sam; and not in that pouty, annoyed way that melts Sam’s heart, but in that angry, cold way that reminds Sam that Crowley is still half demon. Said half-demon stalks around the bed to get up in Sam’s face. He’s a head shorter but Sam has never been the dominant one and he steps back instinctively. But Crowley doesn’t strike him; would never strike him and he relaxes, reminding himself that, demon or not, Crowley is first and foremost his boyfriend.

“You,” Crowley seethes, as if he’s so angry that the words won’t come out, “ _you_...agh!” The shout of frustration causes Sam to take a miniscule step back from his boyfriend. Crowley, however, doesn’t notice, just turns away from Sam and throws his hands up in the air in an obvious sign of exasperation.

“I what, Crowley?” Sam goads. “Nothing to say? Why? Because you know I’m right? Because you really have just been wasting my--”

 

He’s cut off by Crowley’s lips. He isn’t expecting them. But that’s mostly because Crowley had been on the other side of the room, nowhere near Sam. He growls, he hates it when Crowley uses his demon powers. One, because they drain the half-demon beyond belief and two, because he rarely ever uses them for good reasons. Right now, plundering Sam’s mouth with teeth and tongue, might be the best reason he’s ever had.

“You should know better, Sam,” Crowley growls, pulling away from the kiss (if it could be called that.) Crowley looks at Sam, hard in the eyes and seems to rethink something. Then he amends, “you _know_ better, Sam.”

“Do I?” Sam whispers, trying not to sound too upset because Crowley always attacks at the first sign of weakness. Crowley growls and grabs Sam by the hips. He lets go abruptly, turning away from Sam and sighing.

“Do you want to leave?” Crowley’s voice is raw, achy in  a way that Sam has only ever heard once in his life.

 

“No,” Sam says honestly, “you know I don’t. I’m just...exhausted. Having my entire family so against my relationship, it--it really wears me down.”

“You’ve never let it bother you before,” Crowley argues, still not facing Sam.

“It’s been a slow burn,” Sam explains, “today was just...”

“The last straw?”

“No...God, I don’t know. This isn’t how I thought our night was going to go. You were supposed to come home, eat pizza with me and we--damn it, we would just get better, right? Like we always do?”

“Doesn’t sound like we’ve really made a habit of getting better. If this was a ‘slow burn,’ as you say.”

There’s silence following Crowley’s words. Sam doesn’t know what to say. His heart is pounding because he doesn’t want this to end. The idea of leaving physically hurts him but...he lets out a shaky breath and walks over to the bed to sit down. Crowley finally turns around. There are no words as he walks up to Sam, as he frames Sam’s face with his hands.

“I won’t change,” Crowley says and the conviction behind the words is strong. Sam gets that, he does. Sam’s already stripped the half-demon of so much. He’s already laid Crowley’s soul, bare in so many ways; it isn’t fair of him to ask Crowley to act more human than he already does. If he’d wanted a human, he would’ve found a human. But he hadn’t--still doesn’t want that. He wants this. At least, he’s pretty sure he does.

“I know,” is the only response that Sam can come up with.

Crowley is on him again, this time the kiss is softer, less teeth and more tongue. Sam tilts his head and deepens it. Slowly, Crowley pushes Sam back onto the bed, crawling over him as he does so. Sam doesn’t fight it, brings his arms up so that Crowley can pin him. They don’t break the kiss for a long time. When Crowley finally does pull away, he looks at Sam, eyes warm.

“Don’t speak, pet,” Crowley whispers. “Lay back...let me take care of you.”

Sam is in no position to argue. All his anger and irritation flies out the window as Crowley begins to undress him slowly. Some part of him: the Winchester part, the _stubborn_ part, wants to argue and fight and push the half-demon away and have a real, honest to god, argument for once in their lives. The witty banter, the short exchanges, the silent treatments, these things aren’t working. But Crowley latches onto his neck, scraping his teeth against the column of his throat and Sam figures arguing can wait.

Demanding, yet gentle hands run up and down Sam’s sides, catching on his hips bones, causing goose flesh to rise up all over. Crowley pulls off a little to shimmy his shirt off as he continues to nip and lick at Sam’s chest and neck. And Sam is hard pressed to stay angry because he’s forced to remember.

He remembers why he and Crowley rarely ever fight; why he defends his prick of a boyfriend at every turn; why he’ll come back time and again despite everything. It’s this. Whatever Crowley may be the 90% of the time, between the sheets, he’s _this_. He’s attentive and gentle and sweet. He’s intense and, dare Sam say it, loving. Whatever Crowley may be on the outside, here in their bedroom, he’s 100% Sam’s. No one gets to see Crowley like this; no one but Sam.

“I love you,” the words fly, unbidden, out of Sam’s mouth and he’s tempted to immediately take them back but Crowley doesn’t let him. Their lips meet, a strong clash of teeth and spit and something else.

 

“Shut up, Moose,” is what Crowley responds with when he pulls away. But he’s smiling, grinning a little bit and it sort of sounds like, “I love you too.”

After that, words are put aside in favor of hungry moans and gasps. Crowley takes his time, trailing bites and kisses down Sam’s body, removing Sam’s last articles of clothing with a devastating slowness. And Sam is reminded again, as Crowley works two lube up fingers in and out of Sam with the same snail-like slowness, that this is why he stays. Whatever else, Crowley loves him. Whether he says it or not doesn’t matter. Whether he expresses it all the time or not doesn’t matter. He says it in the ways that count.

When Crowley finally slides into him, Sam is completely gone, too wound up with pleasure to think of anything beyond the point where him and and his half-demon meet. More hungry and needy gasps are let loose into the air. Crowley grunts, snapping his hips in time with Sam’s heartbeat, their headboard slamming away against the wall.

Sam wraps his legs tightly around Crowley and raises his hands above his head to grip the headboard, needing something to hold onto as their pace increases. Faster still, Crowley bends down, folding Sam in half, and their lips meet again; it’s less of a kiss and more of an exchange of hot, wet breath. Their tongues reach out to meet each other and the pace becomes frantic.

“Gonna come,” Sam gasps, wrapping an hand around his leaking cock to stroke it hard and fast.

“Go on then,” low and gravelly, hot right in Sam’s ear. That’s all it takes. Sam arches and spills between them, his orgasm roaring through him, a scream escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” Crowley grunts before giving a few final thrusts and losing  himself. “Sam,” the name is quiet, said almost like a secret. Another unspoken, “I love you.”

Crowley collapses beside Sam on the bed. Sam spares a thought to the pizza that’s, undoubtedly, going to be gross in the morning if he doesn’t do something about it now. He gives some half-hearted contemplation to getting up but finds the thoughts hindered by Crowley’s arms wrapping around him.

Stubbled cheeks rub against the side of his face, and warm lips press against his ear.

“Don’t leave,” Crowley whispers. It’s as close to a confession as Sam will ever get and Sam hears it yet again, “I love you.” Unsaid, but completely genuine.

 **  
**“I won’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://forgivethesinnersammy.tumblr.com/ follow my blog to seem more of my mediocre writings.


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